


Do The Math

by Telesilla



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What services can Dr. M. Rodney McKay expect from a $5,500 an hour hooker named John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do The Math

"5,500 an _hour_? What the hell do you do that's worth that?" Rodney stared at the guy--and, honestly, his name couldn't really be "John"--who'd been sent up to his suite. He was pretty hot, but Rodney had seen hotter guys. Once or twice.

 

John's pretty mouth curved in a seductive smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Anything you want."

 

"_Anything?_"

 

"That's what I said."

 

Rodney was too busy pondering the possibilities to notice that John was wandering around the room, looking it over. When he started paying attention again, John was standing near the desk, looking down at the mess of laptops, pads of paper, post-its, pens and pencils that covered it.

 

"Hey! Don't look at that stuff...oh my God, you're some kind of corporate spy, aren't you? One of my rivals...." Rodney frowned for  
a moment, trying to remember who his rivals were. He rubbed the mysterious scar on his arm, knowing that, whoever they were, they  
didn't play nice.

 

"Relax, Rod...Dr. McKay," John said. "I'm not here to steal your secrets or hurt you." He paused and stared down at a piece of paper. "Also? You made a mistake here...." He took a clean sheet of paper off a pad and quickly rewrote the complicated equation Rodney had been working on.

 

Watching John standing there doing math, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, was the most erotic thing Rodney had seen since...that he remembered.

 

"Sex _and_ math too?" he finally managed to say.

 

"Five and a half grand gets you a lot." John held out the piece of paper. Rodney looked it over and saw the place where he'd made his initial error. He'd been wrong and this hooker--all right, "male escort"--had corrected him.

 

"Who the hell are you?"

 

"I think that should be my question," John said, his expression oddly sad. He reached into a pocket and pulled out something that looked a little like a remote control designed by Alphonse Mucha. It glowed blue and green, the light spilling around John's long fingers.

 

"I'm Dr. M. Rodney McKay and I work for TeleTrust Information Systems," Rodney said, the words feeling oddly wrong in his mouth.

 

"No," John said. "No, you don't."

 

Before Rodney could argue with him, John stepped forward and all but shoved the weird remote thing into Rodney's hand. It produced a tone that Rodney felt more than heard, as if his whole body were some kind of living tuning fork, and the blue light flared and pulled all his attention to it.

 

When he could look at anything else, he blinked and stared at John. "Holy shit! Sheppard, we've got to get the hell out of here; the Trust...."

 

"I know," Sheppard said, a very different smile on his face. "There's some kind of shield over this room that's keeping us from just beaming you out."

 

"Do they have surveillance on me?"

 

"Yeah, but we're looping something else into the system. Right about now I think we're out of view of the camera on the floor making...convincing noises."

 

After a few minutes of searching, they found the shield device hidden behind the incredible entertainment system. "Oh, this is  
insulting," Rodney muttered as he took the tools John handed him and began poking around. "It's so easy!"

 

Ten minutes later, they were back under the mountain in Colorado Springs. For the next long stretch of time, Rodney suffered through the debriefing, endless medical and psychological testing and more debriefing.

 

Finally, he stepped through the gate and into Atlantis, feeling better the moment he took his first breath of clean, crisp air. After another debriefing, which was mercifully short, he and John walked down the hall to the living quarters.

 

"So," Rodney said as they paused at his door. "You never did actually tell me what I would have gotten for $5,500."

 

"Invite me in," John said, his slow, sweet smile finally reaching his eyes. "And I'll show you."

 

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Written as comment fic when [ladycat777](http://ladycat777.livejournal.com/) asked: " Here's the important question: what the hell does a $5,500/hr hooker do?"


End file.
